Master
by Word Bender
Summary: I am no ones weapon! No ones toy, to do with as they please. Whether to restore lost glory, or to bring new age. My Master is my Maker and I live only to live with him. His word is my life and I live by it and respond to it alone!


Ok.

Uhm a one shot in the Rings POV during the council of Elrond taken from the book so if you've only watched to movie you'll be slightly confuzed.

Yes, well basically in the movie Frodo sets the Ring on a stool or stand or whatever so we'll go with the idea that is what he did just before this starts.

K? K!

So have fun reading and tell me what you think.

**_Master_**

Beings have many names for me.

The One Ring.

The Ring of Power.

Isildurs Bane.

The Great Ring.

The Ruling Ring.

But none know my true name. To know it is death. But in elvish I have found a name suitable for myself.

Nonmiril Marenosse.

Born in Brilliance. Bred in Terror.

My name that is unknown to all that care to ignore it. And the fools at this council have ignored many things far less fanciful than my self-given name.

The dwarf - Gloin - knows naught of what he recounts. That horseman was a Nazgul.

Now the elf speaks. Wiser is this one. The history of my Master is well told. Ah! Someone is searching. . . Boromir! Yes, the poor mortal wants to help his people. He wants to be powerful. As do we all.

I have come into this terror-tale that Elrond spins. Four thousand years has made him wise in my goings and partings. Now he comes to the time of my Masters downfall. In addition, my release. Isildur, yes. I remember well his blood.

Is it here? Yes! Aragorn son of Arathorn. Heir to the Land of Stone. My, my, how strong this Prince has become.

I am getting much attention from these councilors. Gimli who wants nothing more than to be rid of my presence and that of the elves. The Prince of Northern Mirkwood, too pure for my branch of sorcery. I shall leave him alone. No, wait. I see his weakness. He has no faith. No blind loyalty or sworn courage. I can play on this.

The Star-Dome is now speaking of the Towers. Boromir stands.

Fated mortal! He is saying that the power of Gondor is staying the hand of my Master. Boromir knows naught how far my Masters arm stretches. He is neither old nor rational, what is he doing at this council of the last world?

Now the imbecile is questioning the Heir to Gondor! This I can work. He wants power. He knows what I have. And what I may give him. He is a fool. But he is weak. And weak fools are the weakest of them all. Now my unwitting apprentice see me! See what I Am and what I can do. I glint and gleam.

Golden Death that Lives.

The first Hobbit comes forth. Bilbo. Now Frodo. My keeper until I am found.

And I will be.

This council is adding to my strength. There is cowardice here. Faithlessness and distrust. My warp and woof. For I am a tapestry of treachery, deceit and power. Yes. My Nazgul can feel me. And I them.

Master!

He calls for me and I wish to go with him. But the wards and protections around Imladris are great and many. And I cannot break them without my Master.

Now the Istari speaks of my second keeper, Isildur. The scroll he wrote concerning me. He tells of my inscription. Oh! The word of Mordor is being spoken!

Such eloquence in a single phrase. It has been a long time since I heard my word declaimed so beautifully.

One ring to rule them all. One ring to find them. One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them!

They are all looking at me. The Princes are wary. The hobbits are unfazed and confused. And the dwarves. They are aloof and pococurante. They should heed this council. Much more than they do.

Gollum has escaped?

Very interesting.

I will have to call him to me. Come my precious. Steal me away.

The Nine are abroad and encroaching! I can feel them drawing close. They must come closer to take me to my Master.

But alas! They are not powerful enough to break through the barriers of this dell.

Saruman. He is being told of now. The Gray is explaining his absence. Saruman is power-hungry. No, not hungry, crazed. Power-crazed. He believes my Master will bestow upon him some power. Some meaning.

He is wrong.

I answer to my Master alone.

And I do not share power. I am greedy of it. I guard it jealously. It is my power and my might to do with as I wish and choose. It is mine and belongs no one else. I own it.

The sorcerer ends asking for the forgiveness of the council. Do I count? If so you are not pardoned.

The Elf Lord is talking.

Aye, Iarwain Ben-adar. I know of him. I cannot control him only because he has no weaknesses.

No cracks or flaws. He is emotionally and spiritually perfect. Unblemished from guile or doubt.

Not because he is Master only unto himself. All are prey to the True Master, my Master, and all will fall before him. All Men, Elves, Ents, Dwarves, Wizards. None shall stand before the joint power of my Master and _Nonmiril Marenosse_!

Glorfindel, an elf of Elronds house, speaks of tossing me to the deep of the seas to destroy me. Or at least to erase me from all knowledge this Middle-earth has. It would not work. There are many creatures, beasts, and serpents in the abyss of the oceans that would claim me and return me to my Master.

The Evanescent fool rises once more. Appealing to the council, he recounts the lost glory of Gondor. How I could return that glory. Harlequin! Does he not listen to anybeing at this council!

Have they not told him that I answer only to my Master?

"Let the Ring be your weapon, if it has such power as you say."

I am no ones weapon!

No ones toy, to do with as they please. Whether to restore lost glory, or to bring a new age. My Master is my Maker and I live only to live with him. My purpose is to be his purpose. My world is to be his world. His word is my life and I live by it and respond to it alone!

Insolent Tarsil!

I will destroy you and your people!

How dare you think that I may do what you will and want!

Fool.

Elrond responds to the man, he is very wise in my workings and wieldings. But he knows not what I think or feel.

The dwarfs. They are angry now. Angry at the elves who are credited with so much. And angry with me that I have brought them into each other's presence. They claim that the Three Rings of the Elf Lords are idle and do no good.

They are right.

The Three are idle. They do no good but they also do no harm. They are petty, vain and haughty. The Untouched have little power and what power they have comes from a dying race. Their power, even combined, is no match for me.

The Elf-Lords have lost the knowledge of the Rings. They cannot wield them safely or soundly. That is the reason that they cannot give out knowledge of their adornments. For they know nothing themselves.

There is wariness clouding the air. This councils' will shall decide the fate of Middle-earth and the beings present know it.

Silence.

Bilbo stands. Ha! He says the he shall finish what he has started. He has neither started my legacy and neither will he end it.

Mithrandir rebukes the Halfling and tells him to sit down.

Silence.

I want Boromir to take me! Men are feeble and are no longer sound of heart or hand. They never were in the beginning. And shall not be in the end.

But Frodo . . . He would be interesting. A challenge worthy of my power. This little man has virtue and value. Which in itself is valor enough for any Rhohirrin. Come my Hobbit!

You shall be my keeper until my Nazgul find me return me to my Master.

Yes!

The Hobbit stands and claims me as his burden. Elrond agrees and The Gray approves.

Oh Master!

Soon I shall rejoin you on your throne.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne,

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Master!

I am coming!

**_Fin_**

_Ok R/R tell me what you think._

_Disclaimer; Don't own squat._

_Nonmiril Marenosse translates literally into 'born in brilliance, living to terror (or terrify)'_

_Tarsil translates into 'Man of Gondor'_

_If I misspelled Mithrandir or Rhohirrin I am sorry._

_GiNgiE GiRl AWAY!!XP_


End file.
